


cannibale narcissique (narcissistic cannibal)

by orphan_account



Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [15]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angry Armie Hammer, Breaking the Bed, Concussions, Dark, Domestic Violence, God Help Armie Hammer, Heavy Angst, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Oblivious Timothée Chalamet, Oh My God, Or At Least The Headboard, Please Don't Hate Me, Press and Tabloids, Rumors, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:15:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28725708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Armie and Timmy have an argument that gets a little violent.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087184
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	cannibale narcissique (narcissistic cannibal)

“Whoa. What the fuck is this?” 

Timothée took a drag on the cherry-flavored e-cigarette he’d picked up at the Shell station on the way home and held out his phone toward Armie. 

Armie scowled in annoyance and took both the phone and the e-cigarette away from Timothée, throwing it off the bed.

“Don’t smoke that shit, Timmy. I don’t care what anyone says, those are just as bad for you as the Pall Malls or the Gauloises your mom and sister smoke.” 

He scanned the screen, and his brow furrowed as he read. “C’mon. You don’t really believe that shit, do you?”

Timothée frowned and chewed his bottom lip. “No, of course not. I actually just can’t believe all the crazy shit people come up with. I mean...I guess people have to do _something_ to entertain themselves.” He reached out for his phone, and grunted disapprovingly when Armie got up out of bed and held it aloft.

“Dude, that’s mine! Okay, Armie, I get it. You’ve made your point. I don’t believe it, okay? Armiiieee, give it to meee!”

Timothée stood on top of Armie’s feet and reached his arm up as high as he could. “Come on, that isn’t fair! As you seem to like reminding me, you have at least six or seven inches on me.” The corner of Timothée’s tongue stuck out. He took a deep breath and lunged upward. He gasped when Armie grabbed him around the waist and flung him back onto the bed, knocking the wind out of him.

Armie put Timothée’s phone down on top of the mini fridge. He smiled grimly and slowly crawled toward him from the end of the bed. Timothée mewled and backed away from Armie, until he was pinned between him and the headboard. “Armie, stop! What the fuck are you doing?!”

Armie laughed. “What am I doing? I think a better question is what are you doing? Why would you even look up stuff like this? Just seeing a picture of me with somebody else sent you into a self-destructive drunken tailspin at New Year’s.”

“I know, but…” Timothée sputtered and gulped. “I get notifications about you in the news, from this app I have.” Timothée chuckled nervously and patted Armie’s cheek placatingly. “I don’t believe it. Armie, you know I don’t believe it. But please, let me go. You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared, Timmy.” Armie was so close that when he murmured, his lips brushed Timothée’s skin. 

Then, suddenly, he pushed Timothée back. He began to fall backward and heard a loud snap as the headboard broke. His head smacked against the wall. 

Armie caught him by the shoulders, breathing heavily. Timothée moaned weakly. He tried to scream, but only a faint high-pitched squeak came out.

“Timmy!” Armie bellowed, his voice an unexpected roar as Timothée drifted on the cusp of unconsciousness. “Stay awake. I’m sorry.”

Armie hugged Timothée and held him close. Timothée groaned softly. He clutched his head and closed his eyes as he was slammed by a wave of vertigo.

Armie turned Timothée in his arms and brushed his hair away from his face. “Baby, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

Timothée shuddered and let out a vocalization between a moan and a shriek. He flailed feebly in Armie’s hold, trying to get away from him. “You...you pushed me,” he croaked weakly. “You pushed me so hard you...broke the fucking headboard.” He tried to sound stern, but his voice came out like a bird’s chirp.

Armie sniffed and shrugged slightly, as if the mention of it embarrassed him. “I don’t give a shit about that. All I care about is you. You realize that, don’t you? I told you before: you’re all I have left. You’re mine, Timmy.”

“N-no…” Timothée moaned and stuttered in disbelief. Armie tightened his hold on him. Timothée felt his fingers brush the collar of his shirt and press against the skin of his throat.

It hurt, and it made his heart pulse dizzily in his head. He whimpered and tried to move away, but to his horror a pitch blackness was quickly rising in his brain. He could barely hear Armie speaking to him, as if he were far away, as if he weren’t squeezing the pulse points in Timothée’s throat himself.

Timothée could not make out any of the words, but from his tone it sounded like Armie was pleading with him.

Armie loosened the pressure on Timothée’s throat gradually until he slumped against Armie’s chest, unconscious.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I can't believe what I'm hearing in the news about Armie this week. 
> 
> I mean, I don't want to believe it, but it's getting pretty weird. 😨
> 
> Hopefully I can write this one off as a fluke or some weird fucked up dream Timmy has. If not, things are about to get a lot darker and a little more complicated...🤷
> 
> The title is tongue-in-cheek, based on some unfounded DM's that Armie allegedly sent calling himself a 'cannibal,' and it also comes from Korn's song of the same name. 🤘


End file.
